Author: Anonymous

“Oh my gosh, your baby is so cute!”

“Thank you! I wish I could lock myself in a closet and cry.”

Prenatal and Postpartum Depression and Anxiety are so real and so absolutely gut-wrenching, but even now they’re rarely talked about. It was something no one ever prepared me for, warned me about, or mentioned to me in any kind of real way.

Sure, there was that mention of it in a couple of the pregnancy books you’re (basically) forced to read when you’re expecting your first kid, but the stigma that surrounded it was so horrible I’d never dare bring it up to anyone, let alone mention it to my doctor.

It started about 10 weeks into my first pregnancy.

I wanted to be pregnant. I loved that my body was creating life inside of it, and I was so thankful that my baby and I were healthy. But other than that, pregnancy in general was very difficult. It was hard on my body, worse on my mind, and was the beginning of some of the most difficult years of my life.

I found out I was pregnant 2 weeks after moving to a new town. I didn’t have a job yet, I didn’t know a single person, and I was the first of my friends to get pregnant, so I didn’t really have anyone to tell me any of my feelings were normal or ok. No one to speak life or love into my world that felt like it was crashing down around me.

I tried for the first couple of months to meet friends and ask questions, but anyone will tell you—making friends as an adult with no job and no kids yet is just downright brutal.

When I did meet people, what was I going to say? “Oh hey, by the way, is it normal to cry all day and feel like you can’t get out of bed?” People want to talk about what color you’re painting the nursery, and what you should add to your registry. No one wants to be friends with the miserable pregnant girl.

One of the women I met in a prenatal yoga class said, “Don’t you just love being pregnant?! It was one of my favorite times in life. I wish I could do it all again.” As we sat there at lunch with her 5 kids, I felt so alone. I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who would relate to the way I was feeling.

So I smiled. I talked about the adorable nursery that I did eventually manage to put together. We talked about all the other women she knew and how they all loved pregnancy too. And then I went home, and I cried, and loathed the next time I would have to shower, or put real clothes on, or smile.

The depression caused big, deep rifts in my marriage. My husband didn’t understand depression. (That’s the nice way of saying, he didn’t believe it existed.)

“What’s wrong?” He would ask me over and over again, and over and over I would respond with “nothing” or “I don’t know!” Eventually, he stopped asking and would just say I was mad all the time. At the end of my pregnancy, I found the emails. The gut-wrenching, heartbreaking emails with the coworker he had turned to in the midst of the worst season of my life. I felt broken before that, but then, I felt completely ruined.

To go along with my difficult pregnancy, labor and delivery was equally hard, which ended in an emergency C-section. Then the depression carried over into postpartum, and because of it, bonding with my new precious baby seemed impossible.

“How can I be a good mom if I can’t even bond with the child I carried inside me?” I wanted to believe it was going to get better. I was so incredibly ashamed of the way I felt. I thought I was broken and didn’t stand a chance at being a good mom. I wanted so badly to be happy. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to feel human again.

At about 2 months postpartum I had an OB appointment and my husband wasn’t with me. I scrounged up the courage to tell my doctor how I was feeling. With tears in my eyes, he looked at me and said with a big smile, “oh just give it a few days and if you’re still feeling bad call the office and I’ll see about prescribing something that might help.” In that moment I felt even more shame. I hardly had the guts to admit it once, let alone call the office and tell another person. I wanted to run away and hide. I thought, “How do I say I’ve been feeling like this since 10 weeks into my pregnancy and it’s only gotten worse?”

There’s a certain amount of shame that comes with having feelings like this, but even more so when you admit those feelings to yourself, and worse when you actually voice them out loud to someone else.

I never became suicidal, and never had thoughts of abuse, so maybe that’s what kept me thinking I was fine all that time. You’re warned about severe cases like that, and the symptoms that accompany those, but you don’t often hear about cases like mine where you just feel really shitty for a really long time.

It was about 4 years before I would actually start to feel “better”. All the way through a second pregnancy, then 2 years of postpartum anxiety after my second son was born. Since I wasn’t working at the time, I managed to keep it hidden from the outside world, but I had completely lost myself and didn’t feel like I could let my guard down with anyone on the planet.

When my second son turned 2, I finally talked to my new general physician about how I felt. She was incredibly supportive and loving, and she prescribed me a medication to help. I didn’t tell my husband I started taking it until about 3 months after that. I stayed on that medication for about 2 years.

With the fog lifted, I found myself again. I was finally able to be the mom I knew I could be. I was able to start my business again, love my kids the way they needed, and we could take the steps to repair our marriage.

The whole time, I know God never left my side. But that’s the thing about depression. It feels like it steals a part of your soul.

It didn’t have to be that way.

In my story, I won’t play the blame game. Too many things were at play, and the fact is, we live in a broken world, full of stigma, full of broken people, and none of the doctors, or husbands, or friends are going to get it all right. Blaming someone won’t make any of what I went through any better. But, I tell you my story so that maybe someone will read it and won’t make the same mistakes I made.

Prenatal & Postpartum depression and anxiety aren’t things we need to be ‘warned’ about. They’re things we need to be able to talk about, and not feel shame. It’s not our fault.

If you’re struggling, tell someone. If that person doesn’t give you the tools and resources you need, be strong, and find someone else. Don’t be ashamed. Find a new doctor, find a counselor, find a support group. Anything that will get you the support you need.

Depression doesn’t make you a bad mom.

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